No Excuses
by ficdirectory
Summary: Five Unexpectedly Badass Things Artie Did With His Wheelchair and One He Did Without It . Fill for the Glee Fluff Meme. WARNING: Bullying.


After the accident, Artie didn't feel strong or powerful at all. He was weak before and he was even weaker now that the car accident happened. The last thing he wanted to do was to go back to school, but he couldn't stop now. He was only in the third grade and he still had lots of years to go.

The first day back, everyone stared. Kids. Teachers. Everyone. Before, he used to be able to run and play with everyone else. Now, he had an aide with him to make sure he could reach everything, manage in the bathroom, and other stuff. Now, recess was the part of the day he hated the most. He couldn't play on the swings or the slides. He couldn't have a chicken fight on the monkey bars. Mostly, he just sat by the wall and watched every other kid play.

When he overheard his own teacher feeling bad for him, though, Artie had enough. He came home after school and made a plan. The next day, he showed up at school ready for the stares and the whispers.

Without waiting for permission, he went to the front of the classroom, instead of Noah, who was supposed to make morning announcements.

"Do you guys have questions about this?" he asked, gesturing to his chair. "Because if you do, I can answer them. I'm the same as I was before winter break. I just have this now."

"I do. What are you doing up there? It's Noah's turn to give announcements, not yours," Finn said obnoxiously. Just his luck he was in the third and fourth grade combined class and all the fourth graders tried to tell him what to do.

"I'm just asking a question," Artie explained.

"Are you going to be able to walk again?" a girl named Brittany wondered.

"No," Artie told her.

"Do you feel bad about that?" Rachel Berry asked.

"Yes."

"How can we help you?" his teacher wanted to know.

"If I need help, I'll ask," Artie told her and then went back to his desk, which was now a table.

* * *

The next year, Ricky Nelson was in charge of driving their bumper car on a field trip with the fourth and fifth graders. When his hat flew off and they crashed into the side, Artie could feel his body go forward, and the steering wheel push into it. It didn't really hurt, but it was kind of scary. Artie was supposed to ride the accessible bus home, with no other kids, but that bus was behind schedule, and that was how he saw Ricky being his usual jerky self to a boy named Kurt.

Kurt lost his mom two years ago, and ever since then, he had changed. He used to be this outgoing, loud, fun kid. But now, he didn't talk in class and barely ever smiled. Even though his dad signed the field trip permission slip, Kurt hadn't done any of the things the rest of them had. He just stood off to the side and watched.

That was why it made the worst feeling ever come into Artie's stomach when he saw Ricky taunting Kurt about his mom. The teacher hadn't caught on, because Ricky had a way of talking so adults didn't hear. Kurt just stared, like he was still couldn't quite believe his mom was really gone.

"Hey, Hummel. I bet your mom hates you and that's why she died. I bet she didn't love you _at all. _If I had a weird kid like you I wouldn't love you either."

Artie rushed between them, and glared up at Ricky. He made sure his wheelchair was totally blocking Kurt from Ricky.

"Shut up," said in the same quiet way Ricky had. He didn't want to get in trouble with the teacher either.

"What if I won't, _cripple_?" Ricky hissed.

And Artie didn't think, he just landed a punch right where he could reach.

Right in Ricky's crown jewels.

* * *

The new girl, Tina, came in seventh grade, and there was the time when she slipped and twisted her ankle in kick ball where Artie was the scorekeeper. Again. Since she was too shy to tell anyone what happened, Artie offered his services.

"Get on my lap. I'll take you to the nurse," he offered.

"Abrams!" their gym teacher yelled. "You and Cohen-Chang get back here!"

"Can't! She needs the nurse! She hurt her ankle!"

Then, he took off - his seatbelt securely around both of them - to be sure Tina got the help she needed.

When they arrived at the nurses' office, he let her keep her spot while her ankle was examined.

When she turned and whispered, "Thanks," without a hint of the stutter that usually plagued her speech, Artie was proud.

* * *

Artie remembered it like it was yesterday. He was a wimpy freshman, going past the locker rooms at the end of the day when he heard something. He hesitated only a minute, before shoving his way into the empty girls' locker room to find sophomore, Santana Lopez, trying to push a guy twice her size off her.

Most people would assume Santana didn't need anyone's help - least of all his - but they weren't there. They didn't hear the desperate edge in Santana's voice, as the guy kissed her against her will.

The guy never saw it coming. Instinct took over, and Artie slammed into him from the side, taking them both to the ground. Sure, it got him stuffed in a port-a-potty, but it was worth it.

Artie would rather take the abuse than witness someone else being hurt.

* * *

It was after Nationals Artie's junior year and they were celebrating like crazy. No one was expecting Coach Sylvester to walk into the midst of their celebrating. Because he was always closer to the ground, Artie could see the sparkling cider that covered the floor. He knew, a second before she slipped that it was going to happen.

Artie rushed behind her, and set the brakes on his chair, cringing. Coach stumbled and landed squarely in Artie's lap.

Though she was embarrassed, and though Artie was sure he imagined it, Coach Sylvester's whispered "thanks" as she cradled her growing belly was there.

Artie nodded and moved to grab paper towels to wipe up the mess.

* * *

There were a lot of great things Artie had done over the last ten years with his chair. Whether it was educating his classmates, protecting a classmate or breaking a fall, but there were other things, too. Things Artie did without his chair.

For example, there was the time in fifth grade when he was riding in the back seat of his dad's car and it braked suddenly, when Artie threw an arm across Mercedes, who was getting a ride home with them, and not wearing her seatbelt.

There was the time in eighth grade, when ninth grader, Mike Chang, swam - with Artie on his back - out to this floating dock in the middle of a lake. Once they got there, Artie convinced Mike to jump off it, into the water. Artie promised he would let go in time, and he did. It was amazing.

But nothing is quite as impressive in Artie's memory as the time he was in weight training, as a sophomore. When the teacher announced they would be doing a strength test: the static arm hang. And Artie had watched as the biggest and strongest guys - Karofsky, Azimio, Finn, - had all fallen after a few seconds of trying to hold their own body weight, with their chin above the bar.

Finally, it was Artie's turn. He wasn't expecting much - especially considering the fact that he had to be lifted up to reach the bar. But after the initial struggle, and the first few seconds of feeling sure he would let go, Artie held on. And on. And on.

Artie Abrams, who had to have modifications made on nearly every athletic pursuit he was involved in smashed the record for the static arm hang. His minute and thirty seconds felt like a lifetime achievement.

He had never felt stronger. This was something he had done. No adaptations. No chair.

No excuses.

_The End._


End file.
